Chosen, p.1
Chosen, page 1
CHOSEN
A CENTRAL VALLEY PACK NOVEL
DARIE MCCOY
Edited by
ALL THAT’S WRIGHT
CONTENTS
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
About the Author
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any matter whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
© 2022 Darie McCoy LLC
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
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DEDICATION
For the little girl inside us all who still believes in fairy tales and happy endings. Don’t give up.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As I continue on this author journey, in the midst of the difficult times, I’m still so very blessed with supportive people. I appreciate everyone who has supported me. Your encouragement has been invaluable.
To my Beta Readers, the group who accepted the task of providing me honest feedback and followed through spectacularly. Your insight helped me enrich my characters and put a shine on my work. Thank you.
A special thanks to All That’s Wright for their editing services and helping me remain on schedule. Your understanding and professionalism are greatly appreciated.
Last but not least, I once again acknowledge my sprint partners Brianna Q. Price and Niccoyan Zheng. You are always my first sounding board and I wouldn’t grow the way I’ve grown without you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
* * *
Chosen is a paranormal/shifter story. In many ways, it conforms to most shifter stories of the day, but there are some differences. This means that there are terms not commonly used in other shifter books used in this story.
* * *
The main characters are of mixed heritage—African (Nigerian Area), Samoan, Caucasian and Afro-Latina. At times, the characters use words and phrases from those cultures and races. I’ve created a short glossary of terms and their usage in this text to assist the reader’s understanding.
* * *
Terms/Definitions:
Alpha Bitch – The mate to the Alpha. There is only one in the pack. It is a term of high honor and respect. It carries with it the power of the position the same as being Alpha.
Alpha Mother – name given to the pack alpha’s mother
Fatal Mate—A fatal mating is similar to a fated mate with the primary difference being that fatal mate’s lives are literally tied together once they mate. When one mate dies, the other perishes soon after.
tuafafine laitiiti – Little sister
Susulu o le la—sunshine
manamea —sweetheart
afa'fine—daughter
When you aren’t looking for something, you will always find it.
- Wisdom of the Elders
PROLOGUE
“You need a mate.” Rosco’s gravelly voice scraped over Rahm’s ears with the unsolicited statement that he didn’t bother to cloak as advice.
“The fuck I do.”
Rahm popped up from his semi-reclined position in the chair behind his desk. Booted feet that were propped on the heavy oak surface, slammed to the floor with a thundering clomp.
“Rahm…”
“Don’t start the disappointed beta shit with me Ros. I don’t need a mate. This pack is strong and thriving now. And you know who led us there? Me. Without a mate. I fixed most of the shit Champ did in less than one generation.”
“I know you did, Rahm. Champ was a piss poor alpha when it came to the day-to-day pack business and his ego drove away valuable members, but he did do one thing right. He mated with a strong Alpha Bitch. She’s the reason you exist.”
Rosco’s gaze was piercing as he reminded Rahm of the one good thing his sperm donor did as alpha of the Central Valley pack.
Before Champlain ‘Champ’ Monteparse took over the reins from the previous alpha, whom he bested in a challenge that resulted in the death of the physically weaker shifter, the Central Valley pack, commonly referred to as the CVP, was one of the largest and most powerful packs in the Northern Hemisphere. After only ten years under Champ’s leadership, the pack numbers had dwindled to almost half and its coffers well on the way to being empty.
The only reason the pack wasn’t completely destitute was due to Champ being smart enough to negotiate with the Pacific Coastal pack alpha for the hand of his only daughter, Rahm’s mother.
His mother not only came with a dowry, but the knowledge, business acumen and a genuine soul which drew others to her. She’s the reason so many pack members didn’t leave. A fierce warrior in her own right, she was the one who trained Rahm to take over the role of alpha.
Unlike some packs, the CVP didn’t believe in birthright claim to being alpha. Each alpha must earn the title through challenge. Knowing this, Champ stopped spending significant time with Rahm and allowing him to tag along on training exercises when it became obvious that the cub was quickly exceeding him in intelligence, would grow to tower over him physically and eclipse his impressive strength.
Intellect, physical prowess and size were all genetic gifts given to Rahm by his mother. A tall, thickly built woman, the males in her family tended to be larger than normal shifters—even for bears.
Non-shifting bears tended to live in isolation, but the Pacific shifters lived in a manner usually found in wolves—pack style. Champ was smart enough to gain Rahm’s mother as his mate, but not smart enough to realize that the father’s genes weren’t always the determining factor for what animal form a shifter would take.
Instead of taking the same form as his sire, Rahm took his mother’s bear genes with very little of Champ’s characteristics—thank the goddess.
“Did my mama put you up to this? She’s been on me about having cubs or pups for years. I can’t stop by the diner for five minutes without her finding a way to mention how much she longs to see her family line continue before she moves on to the next realm.”
“No. She didn’t have to say anything to me for me to know what I know. I see you every day and I’m telling you that you need a mate.”
“Tell me, oh wise beta of mine. If I decided to take a mate, who would I mate with? I’ve fixed a lot of Champ’s fuck-ups, but we still don’t have good relationships with strong packs willing to let go of their females still able to breed.”
“Why would you look outside of the pack? We’ve grown. There are at least thirty unmated females of age right on pack lands.”
“A pack female! What kind of sick perv do you think I am? There’s not an unmated pack female that I’m not either related to or that I wasn’t present at the birth the day she was born… AS PART OF MY ALPHA DUTIES!” Rahm’s horror at Rosco’s suggestion dripped from his voice.
At only twenty summers, Rahm had bested Champ in the Alpha Challenge and took over the pack. Which meant he was a minimum of twenty years older than any eligible female in the pack. Shifters are blessed by the goddess with long life spans, so Rahm’s forty-four summers was still considered young by shifter standards.
“Rahm, it’s not that bad. I know for a fact that Jim has two daughters of mating age that would jump at the chance to have you court them.”
“First, who the fuck still says ‘court?” Second, no offense to Jim, but his daughters are dumber than a box of rocks with letters written on them to help ‘em make words. That oldest one tried baking me a cake, but didn’t realize she actually had to turn the oven on for it to get hot enough to actually bake in it.”
Starting from his forehead, Rosco ran one large hand down his darkly tanned, weather-worn face. He wasn’t fooling anyone. It was obvious that he was stifling a laugh because he knew Rahm was right. Jim’s girls were the female version of the idiot twins from one of the Alpha Mother’s old books about falling down rabbit holes.
“Ok, Rahm. You win. I’ll stop with the mate talk. You’re a full-grown bear, you know your own mind. I stand by my assessment though. Whether or not you believe it or will admit it, you need a mate.”
Raising his hands in surrender, he rose from the over-sized chair situated on the opposite side of the large dark oak desk. Slapping his cap against his thigh, he huffed.
“I guess I’ll go on down by the Richardson spread. Old Man Richardson’s wife promised Millie some of that butter she makes and I told my sweet mate I’d get it on my way home today.”
“That sounds good. You can save me a trip. The old
“Yes, Alpha. As you wish, Alpha.” Saluting as if he was a soldier, Rosco sauntered to the door.
“Get out you cheeky fucker.”
Rosco’s laughter lingered in the room as he left closing the door softly behind him. Shaking his head, Rahm picked up the phone to call Old Man Richardson to let him know Rosco would be coming in his stead. After a quick exchange with the old mountain lion shifter, his mind forced him back to the conversation he’d just had with his beta.
Kiss my ass. I don’t need a fucking mate.
1
Carleeta wiped the sweat from her brow with a plaid covered forearm. It’s hot as hell out here. It was late spring and it already felt like summer. Looking down from her perch on the peak of what would become the roof of the house once they finished attaching the plywood to the frame, she watched her crewmates moving around on the ground.
Checking her harness, she moved to the next position and waited for the new guy to pass up another section. Less than four feet away, another member of the six-person crew was also waiting. They worked in teams at each stage. First on the ground, then framing, roofing and finishing. Their crew typically didn’t stick around for much of the inside finishing work.
“Hey, Carl! Heads up!” Wall-eye called out in advance of the next piece being passed up.
“Wall-eye…If I have to tell you one more time not to call me Carl, you’re going to find out what the rubber on my boots tastes like.” There was always one guy who thought it was funny to shorten her name to a masculine form as if to further emphasize what they considered her lack of femininity.
They could all kiss the broad side of her plus-sized ass. It’s not like she didn’t know who she was and what she looked like. They outed themselves as insecure when they expressed that they thought her physical size made her less of a woman.
Standing at six-feet two in her sock feet, Carleeta towered over most men she met. Couple that with being a long-time member of the over two hundred club, she knew weaker men were intimidated by her size. Sucks to be them. Raised in what her bestie called a family of giants, she was confident in who she was as a person. The approval of some insecure little man-boy, wasn’t even a blip on her radar.
Shane, her crew partner, stifled his laugh at her threat to Wall-eye, whose real name was Wallace, but one look at his face and you knew why he carried the nickname Wall-eye. He bore an unfortunate resemblance to a walleye fish. She wasn’t sure who tagged him with the nickname, but it stuck and he even went so far as to use it introduce himself.
Looking like that and he has the audacity to think I care what he thinks of how I look? Worry about yourself fish-boy. Carleeta kept her thoughts about Wall-eye’s appearance to herself. But, if he kept up with this bullshit, she wouldn’t hold back. She learned not too long after she started working on a crew that construction was hard on the body, but for a woman, it could be harder mentally than physically.
If the men found a woman on the team attractive, she expended far too much energy making sure it was clear the attraction wasn’t mutual but doing so in a way that wouldn’t result in a cut harness or some other accident on the job. If they took the route of Wall-Eye, they tried to make a woman so miserable that she’d quit. That wasn’t going to happen either.
Carleeta had done her time as a journeyman carpenter and after finding a good mentor was finally a master carpenter. She worked on the construction crew, but her other source of income was as a finisher who did custom carpentry work, be it cabinets or furniture. Making enough with her business, she could quit working on a crew anytime she wanted and be okay financially. Carpentry was her passion.
Thankfully, today’s threat to Wall-Eye was enough to get him back in line. It was either her threat or the pointed look from the job-boss that made him clamp his trap shut and just work for the remainder of the day.
Having worked in the heat with crushing humidity, Carleeta’s sweat-drenched clothing clung to her body accentuating the curves she didn’t try to hide, but also didn’t dress in such a way as to call attention to them while she was on the job. Unbuttoning the plaid overshirt, she allowed the light breeze to whip the tails of the shirt and cool her torso.
It seemed counter-productive to wear a long-sleeved shirt in the heat, but her father had taught her that it was actually better and cooler to put a loose-fitting light weight long-sleeved shirt on over a fitted t-shirt. The fitted tee absorbed the sweat and if the day wasn’t a complete scorcher, the outer layer would keep the sun from burning her mahogany brown skin.
When Ronald made the call to knock off for the day, the relief was evident from everyone. Carleeta had an image in her mind of a long bubble bath. There were some essential oils she’d discovered at the farmer’s market that were supposed to be great for sore muscles and today was a great day to test their effectiveness.
“Hey CJ, are you coming out tonight?” Shane knocked the wood dust and dirt from the bottom of his cooler as he looked at her expectantly. It was pay day Friday, which meant the crew would meet up with some of the guys from other crews at a local bar, have a few beers and blow some extra cash betting on the pool games in the back or sporting events on the two big screen TV’s on opposite sides of the bar they frequented.
“Aaahhh…” She hesitated in answering, because of course she didn’t want to go. She rarely spent non-work time with the crew. Not that she didn’t like them. She really didn’t care for crowds.
“Aw, come on CJ. You hardly ever come out with us. You have to come at least for a little while. Did you forget we agreed to take Marco out to celebrate his girl agreeing to get hitched to his ugly mug?”
“Hey man! I’m right here. I can hear you.” Marco’s offended voice cut into the conversation. “Anyway CJ, pay no attention to Shane. Everyone knows he hasn’t been the same since his last girlfriend slid into my DM’s. He’s just lucky I’m not that kind of guy and I turned her down.”
“In your dreams Marco. No woman with access to all this, would ever settle for a young’un barely off his mama’s tit.” With his chest poked out and his arms folded across it, displaying his large forearms, Shane looked Marco up and down and flicked his gaze back to Carleeta, dismissing the younger man.
“Come on CJ. We’re meeting at Five Miles at eight o’clock. Just come by for a few minutes. You’re a part of the crew, it wouldn’t be a real celebration without all of us there. Even Ronald is coming.”
The mention of their reclusive crew boss was the thing that let Carleeta know there was no getting out of this ‘peopling’ opportunity. She at least joined them on occasion. Ronald never came out with the crew. This would be a first, but it’s possible he couldn’t find a way to decline either, Marco was the first unmarried member of their crew to get engaged since they all began working together.
Ronald and Shane were already married, the rest of the crew was single. Marco taking the plunge would put their small crew at half and half—single to married ratio. She had no doubts, after hearing about yet another person in her circle getting married, her mother would start up again about Carleeta letting her eggs go to waste.
